Verbal fighting
by twitchi
Summary: Malfoy loves a verbal challange. He is delighted that others also does. Like Potter.SlashHPDMwarning!


**Random scribble of dah twitchi  
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Male/Male relationship heavily implied. Do not like? Do not read!**  
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Characters and surroundings taken shamelessly from JK rowlings Harry Potter books. They are not mine, I don't get any money out of this, yadayadayada You know the drill.**

_Dah twitchi is no native English speaker, and would therefor be greatly thankful for any comments about it's language as it'd like to improve it._

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He did not know when it started, but one day it was there. That tingling, exciting feeling, spreading through his body. It would start as a whisper in his chest, spread like a wind throughout his stomach, and reach his groin in heat. It was always the same conditions. A fight. Verbal fight. Physical fights did not excite him. The verbal did. And it was always the same person. 

Harry Potter.

That Golden Boy could give him a hard-on within seconds, if he tagged along with the verbal fights. It was a strange feeling, that fluttering, the heat from his groin, the kick of riling the other boy up. Draco Malfoy had to admit he got high because of one Harry Potter.

//The Slytherins were all eager for Malfoys frequent quarrels with the Golden Boy. The both boys now had their daily verbal spar, often more than once, and it had become quite an interest by their schoolmates to manage to get a view of those fights. It was like duels, there were rules that none of them spoke of. Not go to personal. Keep your face. Never, ever, go physical. There was also an unspoken rule about what gave you most points. Witty retorts. Make the other crack their appearance. Get back in a way so that your rival had to change topic.

Malfoy sighed. He was in History class, not paying attention. It would be lunch as soon as they were free from class, and he had a brilliant opening for a fight over lunch. He could not help but grin. There was a whisper from his groin, speaking of eagerness. There was no such feeling as when Potter got into the fight seriously. The other boy had got better during the months their game had been going. His feelings wasn't on his sleeves anymore, and with a smirk Malfoy admitted Potter just might look like Slytherin material the way he comprehended with their verbal games. The smirk grew wider as he thought of what the other boy would do if he knew what... benefits... Malfoy got out of the whole.

Malfoy did not linger on the reasons for his body's reactions to their fights. He did linger on the feeling he got afterwards, though. It was not that it was Potter. No, it was that it was a thrill. A game in where he could actually beat the Gryffindor. In addition, the thrill had grew bigger and bigger as of lately, as Potter had became better on the games.

That actually was what had made the game interesting. He knew for one thing that there were bets going on. As soon as Potter had stopped his frantic anger, snarling and upset stomping away and actually begun to retort in a Slytherin fashion, people had become interested. It was an entertainment as good as anything to watch the fights that were more of a competition, and that did not get the teacher's attention like a real fight would. Malfoy practically purred at the thought. Potter had even taken the game into class. The thrill of trying to keep their game going right under the nose of Snape was wonderful. It added to the sport that keeping the grade got harder. Amusing enough it seemed like Potter's grade actually had gone up despite the effort they went through to insult each other.

He leaned back in the chair. Lost in his thoughts he went over their games. He was sure Potter enjoyed them much. The way his eyes gleamed and his posture had got more confident. There was no second thought about it, that boy was Slytherin material, no matter how anyone else saw him. That was Malfoy's big relief. If the other boy had some Slytherin qualities, it was not that much of a problem that he enjoyed their quarrels this much. After all, how would he explain the almost obsession like behaviour he had begun? Every time there was a free period, or in between classes, he felt an urge to seek out Potter. To enjoy a verbal match. Oh, and that other thing afterwards. It certainly added to the excitement.

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With a satisfied sigh, Draco Malfoy cast a cleaning spell and got up from the toilet. Their lunch fight had been perfect, even though he still was not sure of who had actually won. That Potter even had had the nerve to smirk at him as they turned away from each other! He would never admit it even to himself, he thought, that the more Slytherin Potter became, the harder he got. The urge to release himself had been so great that he had went straight for the toilets, instead of the Great Hall. It had been quite urgent, and with a sigh he pushed the door of the stall open. He was quite hungry by now, and hurried to wash his hands and--

Fingers, running down his neck. He froze. He almost did not dare looking up into the mirror, had the person seen, heard, him doing...?

Slowly he glanced up, to see a smirk in the mirror. He gasped. The smirk went wider and the fingers went up his scalp, slowly, gentle. His eyes widened as he felt something stir between his legs, again. He felt his breathing getting heavier, this was not right. He only got this feeling from the _verbal_ interaction, not from a silent, smirking Potter. It did not improve his suddenly shivering state that Potter had leaned close to his back and that mouth that mere minutes ago had been involved in their game now were far too close to his ear. Also, Potter was breathing, all the while keeping eye contact through the mirror.

"I don't think we settled score at lunch..." Potter's voice ghosted over his ear, made the skin on his arms prickle. He let go of a, in his mind, quite pathetic meowling whimper. His eyes went, if possible, even wider the undignified noise he had managed. "...I'll take that as the line that confirms my win, Malfoy." Potter's eyes had that gleam again, and the Slytherin could not turn his eyes away from their mischievousness.

He did not know how long the stood like that. Potter's body pressed close, but not hard, against his back. The fingers slowly playing in his hair. Their eyes locked together through the mirror. He absentmindedly noted that Potter actually had grown taller than he had. There was not much else he noticed, though. He felt like in trance, not knowing what would happen once one of them broke away.

It happened far too soon. Potter's fingers slipped down his neck, leaving his body to shiver from the contact and then, the sudden loss of contact.

"Good luck with the match in Potions, Malfoy, you better hurry or you'll be late." Potter smirked as he turned to walk away, leaving a flustered Malfoy.

With a glance at the clock, Malfoy knew he did not have time to do anything about his body's state, nor would he have any time for lunch. He suddenly smiled at his reflection. If Potter had let their game go physical, he would be damned if he would not do the same! A quick hand through his hair to straighten it up and a wink for himself in the mirror, he hurried off to a Potions match that would be quite... Challenging.

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_Yup, another scribble with no meaning at all. Just trying to work up some writing skill. Or, at least get used to write stuff._


End file.
